Back view of a person in a black bikini showing a blue TARDIS police box tattoo with an orange wash and black swirl linework on the upper back, beside the shoulder blade.

TARDIS tattoo on upper back

Back · Mixed · Photo

A blue TARDIS police box is shown front on, with a small window grid, a lit sign on its top and a shaded blue body. Fine black swirling linework and small circles surround it, and an orange wash sits behind the box. The tattoo is centred on the left side of the upper back against a sandy beach background.

Back Tardis Police box Swirl Circle Wash

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fuel light had been blinking since the last water tower, and I was counting fence posts to stop myself doing the sums on how far a dead engine could carry a man in that heat, when a police box stood up out of the shimmer on the shoulder of the road. Its lamp was lit on the roof, though it was midday and the sun could have fried an egg on my bonnet. Around it the air curled in black lines, as if someone had drawn it with a fine pen and then walked off with the paper, and behind it the dust glowed the colour of marmalade.

Keep reading

The door opened before I reached it. A woman in a salt-stained coat leaned out, squinted at my van and said, 'You're the one who's been going round in circles since Tuesday.' I said I'd only ever been on the one road. She said that was the trouble with roads, and asked if I had any spare petrol. I told her I had none. She laughed, stepped back inside, and came out with a jerrycan that could not possibly have fitted through that small blue door. She poured it into my tank without a funnel, which I still don't understand.

Inside, the box was far bigger than it had any right to be. She told me she had been trying to reach a station called Lantern Cross for thirty years and needed a lift to the nearest signal mast. In return she would show me where the road ran out. She tapped a map on the console, a sheet of desert gone soft at the edges, with a line of swirls leaving it like smoke. I didn't take the lift. I drove on alone, and when I looked in the mirror the box had gone, though the air where it had stood still held a faint orange haze. My windscreen bore a single black spiral in the dust that no amount of washer fluid would shift.